Page 229 of Spicy Ever After
Fuck.
Hattie: AND WHAT ABOUT WHEN YOU PICKED ME UP FROM THE BACHELORETTE PARTY IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT? EVEN THOUGH IT MEANT YOU’D GET A CRAP NIGHT’S SLEEP. AND THEN YOU PICKED ME UP FROM THE AIRPORT YESTERDAY, BUT YOU WOULDN’T EVEN LET ME PAY FOR PIZZA.
I’m honestly glad she can’t see me right now.
She doesn’t know it, but pieces of evidence that prove her right flash across my mind. My easy response when Griffin told me and Pop he didn’t want to be a farmer, leaving me with the lion’s share of running this place. The fight I put up when he no longer wanted his dividend check, telling me to reinvest it in the operations instead.
The three weekends I spent helping our neighbors to the east, the Comeauxs, rebuild their fence after a storm took it out. And my insistence that we didn’t need them to cook for us the week after Mom died.
The deal I gave Javier last year on the old pickup when his dad’s truck up and died on him. And my flat no when his mom was so grateful, she offered to come in and clean once a week.
Hattie: WHAT DO YOU THINK? AM I RIGHT?
I chew on the inside of my cheek.
Even though she doesn’t know about any of these instances, Hattie still knows me.
And it’s humbling as fuck.
Me: You might be right.
She doesn’t let me off the hook, either.
Hattie: AND WHAT’S THAT ABOUT?? DO YOU THINK YOU AREN’T WORTHY TO RECEIVE? OR ARE YOU TOO PROUD TO ACCEPT WHAT’S OFFERED?
I snort.
In case I needed one, here’s another reminder of what life with Hattie—what loving Hattie—will be like. Abandonment of pretense.
Because with her, there is absolutely no bullshit allowed.
I nod to myself.
Yeah, I can live with that.
And I start typing.
Me: I’m not sure if this is a complete answer—I may need more time to think about it to give you a complete answer—I don’t think it’s exactly a self-worth thing or a pride thing. I think it’s more of a…
I press send to give myself a minute to weigh the truth of it.
Me: A self-preservation thing.
A minute passes.
Hattie: TYPE MORE WORDS.
I huff a laugh at my Hattie and type more words.
Me: If I can handle everything on my own, then a part of me feels… protected. Invulnerable. In control, I guess.
Putting it into words now feels a little ridiculous, but there it is.
Hattie: YEAH. I GET THAT.
And, of course, she does. She probably gets it better than anyone. But, still, she shows me no mercy.
Hattie: IT’S JUST AN ILLUSION, THOUGH. WE’RE VULNERABLE AF AND EVERYBODY NEEDS HELP SOMETIMES.
